


Hold On Tight

by ms_nawilla



Series: Sappy Love Songs and Other Endearments [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Baking, Birthday Cake, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon secret resurrection, Clint Barton's Farm, Cuddling, F/M, Families of Choice, Farm Animals Named for Loved Ones, Fertility Treatment, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Lost Love, M/M, Natasha does not like Taylor Swift, New love, Photographs, Platonic Love, Sappy Love Songs, blended families - Freeform, no infidelity, whittling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_nawilla/pseuds/ms_nawilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura and Clint work together to build their new family and lives together after loss.  They aren't the only ones.  </p>
<p>(Takes place early in season 2 of Agents of SHIELD).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Still Following](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871177) by [efficaceous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/efficaceous/pseuds/efficaceous). 



> Inspired by _Still Following_ by efficacious. (Not a sequel, but I adored the premise and with permission, ran off with it).
> 
> Special thanks to Ceria for the quick and thorough beta. I'm trying to make a habit of writing regularly again.

“Are you okay, Mom?” 

 

Laura didn’t take her eyes off the road as she reached out to tousle her son’s hair.    “I’m fine, kiddo.  It’s just been a long day.”

 

“Was Mrs. Negley being mean, Mom?” 

 

She glanced at the rear view mirror, catching her daughter’s eye.  “She just wasn’t minding her own damn business.”  Lila’s eyes widened and Laura bit back a sigh.  “I’m sorry about the bad word, Sweetheart.  Mommy is just tired.”

 

Cooper looked at her suspiciously.  “Really tired?  Are you, um, . .”

 

Laura raised a patented Mother Eyebrow.  “Just regular tired, Coop.  It’s been a _really_ long day.”

 

“Okay.”  Cooper turned to face forward but didn’t look entirely convinced. 

 

“Really, I’m just tired.  I didn’t sleep well last night.”

 

The boy was quiet for a long moment.  “Did you have bad dreams?”

 

“Not that bad, just dreams.”  The car turned into the driveway.  Laura tried not to slump in relief at the thought of finally being home.  She could almost feel the couch beneath her, a cold glass of mint tea pressed against her temple.

 

“Mommy, are we supposed to have visitors today?” 

 

“What’s that, Lila?” 

 

The young girl was turned around in her seat, straining to see out the rear window as her mother parked.  “There’s a car out by the trees near the meadow.”

 

Laura set the parking brake.  “It’s probably just the Miller boys, out target shooting.  You know they like to use the range in our cornfield.  I’ll call their uncle later.”  The couch and tea were calling.

 

“No, Mommy.  It’s a nice car.”

 

Laura twisted in her seat to take a look.  She couldn’t tell the make and model from here with the sun in her eyes, but whatever it was, it wasn’t a mud-spattered truck painted up to look like a ‘modernized’ version of the General Lee.  It was definitely not the Miller boys.

 

_Damn_. 

 

“Cooper, get in the back.”  He gave her a wide-eyed look.  “ _Now_.”  He scrambled into the back seat without a word and tried not to squeak when she unlocked the glove box and pulled out her handgun, checking the bullets.  “Buckle up.”  After making sure the safety was on, she laid the firearm on the floor, then put the car back in gear.  “I’m going to check it out.  You two stay in the car and don’t say anything.” 

 

“Shouldn’t we call Mr. Negley?” 

 

“He’s out of town, Cooper.”  She knew Clint would have wanted her to call their neighbor, a former sheriff, to help run trespassers off the property, but she had had quite enough dealings with his busybody wife for one day.  “I’ll handle it.”  She tossed her purse into the back seat.  “Take my cell phone.”

 

Cautiously, Laura pulled up on the far side of the road and peered through the tall grass, trying to make out the stranger parked just inside the turnoff to their cornfield.  She could see just one man, and he was sitting on the stump of an ancient oak that had been struck by lightning before they had moved in and had provided their firewood all through last winter.  The man had something in his hand and seemed to be looking intently at the ground.  He hadn’t seemed to notice their approach.

 

“Whoa Mom, cool car.”  Cooper pressed his face against the window, anxiety forgotten.  Laura scrutinized the cherry red hot rod behind the man.  She had to agree, it was much cooler than the General Lee. 

 

“You two stay here.  Keep the doors locked.  If he does anything funny, call 9-1-1.”

 

“Funny?”  Lila looked confused.  “If he tells jokes?”

 

“No, Lila.”  Laura unbuckled her seatbelt.  “Cooper, use the phone if he pulls a gun.”  She caught her son’s eye and he nodded, pale and wide-eyed. 

 

Slowly, Laura stepped out of the car and closed the door, gun at the ready, just as she had been taught.  The stranger didn’t react as she released the safety and stalked across the one lane road, feet crunching on the gravel. 

 

As she got closer, she could tell that the man wouldn’t quite blend in at the local general store, despite his casual dress.  Even in his worn Levis, work boots, and ball cap, he looked too clean to be a farmer.  His plaid flannel over a plain t-shirt completed the country boy uniform, but it was all just a little too precise, as if the flannel had been ironed smooth.  If he had been the world’s neatest farmhand, she still should have been able to smell his work on him this late in the day.  There was no sign of a rifle or a fluorescent vest, so he wasn’t some wayward hunter who strayed from his summer or retirement cabin either.  Not that there was much in terms of big game in the surrounding farmland. 

 

He was a stranger.  Strangers were dangerous.

 

Laura cocked her gun.

 

The man didn’t startle like she expected; if anything, he seemed to grow even _more_ still.  For a moment she wondered if he was sitting there dead.  But after a beat or two he straightened up from where he had been leaning over the muddy ground and slowly raised his hands.  Whatever he had been holding fell at his feet but he made no move to pick it up. 

 

“What are you doing on my land?”  She thought her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

 

The man turned slowly at the waist, never lowering his hands.  “Eating a sandwich.”  She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, “and an apple.”  He gestured toward the orchard in the distance with his head.  “From a store.  I didn’t take it from you and I didn’t mean to trespass on your land.”

 

Laura dared to take a step closer, wishing she could see his eyes, could read his expression, but she never lowered the gun.  “Why did you stop here?”

 

He nodded at the surrounding trees.  “Shade.”

 

She opened her mouth to clarify her question, but he understood.

 

“I used to have family who owned property in the area.”  He looked back across the fields, almost wistful.  “I have good memories in this corner of the world.”  He turned back to face her.  “I’m sorry I frightened you.  Will you let me leave?”  He still hadn’t lowered his hands. 

 

She wondered if his arms were getting as tired as hers were as she stalked closer, coming around so she could face him head on.  From this vantage point she could see his half-eaten sandwich wrapped in wax paper on the stump beside him, a bottle of iced tea dripping condensation into the grass and a brown paper bag placed on a large flat rock, presumably holding his store-bought apple.  A dead, dry tree branch lay between his boots where he had dropped it.  Apparently he had been absentmindedly drawing in the dirt when they had arrived. 

 

The stranger wasn’t the only one who had been lost in their memories today.

 

“You have a gun?” she asked, finally, wondering if he was ever going to lower his hands.

 

“Locked in the glove compartment.”  He nodded at the hot rod, almost sheepish.  “It’s isolated out here.”  It sounded more like commiseration than threat, despite the fact that she was still holding a gun on him.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

 

She narrowed her eyes.  He was dressed wrong for this county but if he were just passing through it wasn’t exactly that odd.  He probably would have been fairly normal looking in some coastal region, far away from flyover country.  Unremarkable.  But he was still a man and could probably overpower her if he chose. 

 

_He told you about his gun._

 

She started to lower her firearm.

 

“MOM!  Should I call 9-1-1?”

 

She jerked the gun back up in surprise.  The man’s eyebrows rose behind his dark glasses and his arms shot higher, fingers widespread as he tried to look as non-threatening as possible.  One arm didn’t go as high as the other and it took Laura a long moment to realize that he couldn’t raise it any higher.

 

“I’ll lay down on the ground if you want me to,” he said very quietly.  “I’m not going to hurt anyone.  Please don’t shoot me.”

 

The ground in front of the stump was slick mud from where irrigation water had run off the corn field.  His weak arm slid down a bit before jerking back up.  She wondered if it hurt.

 

“It’s alright, Cooper.”  She lowered her gun and decocked it. 

 

“Are you okay, Mommy?”  She looked toward the road, ready to yell at her kids for getting out of the car before she realized they couldn’t see her where she was standing. 

 

“I’m fine, Lila.”  Laura turned back to the stranger.  The weaker arm had slipped down again, but he hadn’t moved otherwise.  “Oh for God’s sake, you can put your hands down.  Eat your damn sandwich.”

 

The corner of his mouth turned up the slightest bit as he lowered his arms and shook them out.

 

“Can we come look at the car, Mom?”

 

Laura rolled her eyes as the stranger’s tiny smile broadened the slightest bit. 

 

“Everyone always wants to look at the car.”  He shrugged, then picked up his sandwich.  “They can look if they don’t touch.  Glove compartment is still locked.”  He took a bite. 

 

Laura definitely didn’t feel like eating but she could sure use a drink.  “Look both ways and hold your sister’s hand.”  Shaking her head, she put the safety back on and walked toward him.  He pulled, unsurprisingly, two apples out of the paper bag, offered her one and gestured toward the rock as if suggesting she join him.  She did.

 

“I’m Laura,” she sat down with a sigh as Lila and Cooper came into view, her son immediately dropping his sister’s hand and making a beeline for the car.  “Don’t touch, Cooper!  Eyes only.”

 

The stranger nodded his thanks.  “Pablo.”

 

“Really?”  She gave him an incredulous look.  He was a little pale for a Pablo.

 

“I didn’t pick it.” 

 

She gave him a genuine smile.  “Are you staying in town, Pablo?”  Now that she thought about it, Laura was surprised the man had escaped Mrs. Negley’s scrutiny. 

 

He shook his head as he swallowed his tea.  “No.  Just passing through on a long business trip.  I’m checking on some of our more isolated facilities, laying the groundwork to acquire new assets.  Maybe hire some local talent if the opportunity presents itself.”  He shifted, cracking his back and smiling faintly as Cooper and Lila pored over his fancy, impractical car. 

 

“Big Agriculture?”  Laura narrowed her eyes, but her lips quirked up, teasing.

 

He looked across the fields.  “Pest and weed control.  Not really as big as you’d think.”  He turned back to her.  “Are you a home town girl?”

 

“Oh yes, here all my life.  Probably know all about your local family.”  She snorted.  “We’re transplants.  Moved in last September.  The locals still haven’t decided if we’re good people yet.”

 

Pablo hummed, thinking it over.  “You’re responsible, cool-headed and protective.  They’ll come around.”

 

“Thanks.”  She bit into the apple.  “My partner has been here longer.  I think that helps.  A little.”  She frowned down at the fruit, though it was actually quite cool and refreshing.  “Busybody old biddy,” she muttered under her breath.

 

“Hmm?” he raised an eyebrow.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean you.”  Laura took another bite to show her goodwill.  “I got a flower delivery from someone the neighbor’s wife doesn’t know and now all the town mothers are probably sitting at the church social discussing how much of a hussy I am.” 

 

He frowned sympathetically.  “Small groups can be like fish bowls.  Everyone thinks they know everyone’s business.  And if they don’t they feel like they should know everyone’s business.  It can be exhausting trying to look normal and boring.” 

 

Laura pointed at the hot rod with her half-eaten apple.  The car was a brighter shade of red than the peel.  “Boring?”

 

“You’ve got to live a little sometimes.”  He folded up the wax paper wrappings from his sandwich.  Laura wondered if he would be taking this much care to clean up after himself if he hadn’t been sitting next to the armed landowner, but somehow she suspected he would.  He seemed to have a certain Respectful and Prepared Boy Scout quality to him.  “I take it the neighborhood women aren’t concerned your unknown admirer is an unwanted stalker?”

 

For a moment, Laura tried to decide whether she should be grateful or insulted.  “That would be a much more generous conclusion to jump to.”  She sighed.  “It’s stupid really.  There’s no scandal at all.  I know Clint sent me the flowers.  He just signed Glenn’s name to them.”

 

“Oh?”  He was looking intently at the label on his bottle of tea, as if trying to figure out if they recycled in this state.

 

“Clint’s my partner.  Cooper and Lila’s stepfather.  Glenn is their father.”  She had to press her lips together to keep them from quivering.  “He was killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq.  Clint lost a lot of people in the Battle of New York.  We met in a grief support group.”  She used a thumbnail to pry out a small bruise on her apple.  “The anniversary of Glenn’s death was yesterday.  Clint remembered.”  She sighed.  “He . . . he understands.  He knows you don’t forget, even if you move on.”

 

Even with his eyes hidden, his gentle smile was sad.  “Of course you don’t forget.  The memories are the gift you take with you.” 

 

“Did you lose someone too?” 

 

“Yes,” he said after a long moment.  “Not the way you lost your loved one, but yes, I’ve lost people.”

 

“So what about you?  Are you from California?”  Tired of dwelling on depressing memories, Laura tried to redirect the conversation.

 

Pablo followed her gaze to his license plate.  “My car is.  I’m from all over, the last few years even more so.  Every time I think I can finally catch a breath, I find myself scrambling to pull up stakes again.  But,” he paused, thinking out his words carefully.  “But a new place to be is a new opportunity.  A new beginning.  The past is gone, but the memories, if we’re lucky the memories help us build a new home.  If we’re unlucky,” he glanced down at the lines he had been drawing in the dirt and grimaced.  “Sometimes they can hold us back.  Get in the way.”

 

“Sometimes both, depending on the day.”  Laura finished her apple and tossed the core into the brush. 

 

“Sometimes both at the same time.”

 

Lila, who had been tracing the stranger’s doodles with a finger, looked up sharply.  “Mommy, we’re not supposed to litter!”

 

“I’m composting.”  She grinned at Pablo, who was eating his own apple.  “Is it garbage or fertilizer?  Will it make the farm messy or will it make the trees grow?” 

 

“I thought you had to go to the doctor for fertilizer!”  Lila looked indignant, no doubt remembering more than one excessively boring morning in a waiting room without a toy box.  “Why couldn’t we just use apples?”

 

On another day, Laura would have tried very hard not to laugh at her daughter.  But it had been a very long and trying day.  She laughed hard, her whole face lighting up.  Beside her, Pablo had gone still, his head tilted as he looked at Lila, then Cooper, and for all that she did not know him, she would have sworn he got the joke.

 

“That’s a different kind of fertilizer, Sweetheart.”  Cooper looked up from his inspection of a vintage hubcap, making his patented ‘icky grownups’ face. 

 

Lila did not look convinced.  “Maybe you need a smarter doctor.”  She flounced off to pick wildflowers.

 

Laura wiped her eyes with her hand, still trying to fight off the giggles.  Pablo passed her a leftover napkin. 

 

“I take it you’re trying for another child?” he asked after Lila had moved out of earshot.

 

“Already tried.”  She gave Pablo a watery smile as good and bad memories played across her face.  “Clint had a vasectomy when he joined the Army, so we’ve had to use some _modern science_ to conceive.  I won’t know if it worked until Friday.”

 

“No wonder the neighborhood gossips have been so upsetting.”  He lifted his tea as if to salute her.  “To new beginnings.”

 

“New beginnings.”  It was a shame Pablo wasn’t one of her neighbors.

 

He finished his tea.  “I do hope it works for you.  You’re already a good mother.  A child would be lucky to have you.”  His smile was strangely bittersweet. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

“Thank _you_.”  He stood up, stretching, joints popping.  Laura wondered how old he was.  It was hard to tell without seeing his eyes.  He pulled out his wallet and counted out a few bills.  “For your hospitality.”

 

She looked up at him, incredulous.  “I pulled a gun on you and let you sit on a dead tree.”

 

He shrugged.  “I’ve had worse.  You didn’t just shoot first and ask questions later.”

 

“I can’t take your money for _that_.”  She looked down at his hands and was oddly surprised to see his driver’s license did indeed say ‘Jimenez, Pablo.’  It had been issued in Nebraska but his thumb blocked her view of the photo.

 

“So take it for the baby.  Buy paint for the nursery or safety gates for all the stairs.”  He put away his wallet, but still held out the crisp bills. 

 

“There may not be a baby.”  Laura fought a sudden urge to cry at the idea that there wouldn’t be a baby this time.  That there might never be a baby.

 

He sat back down on the stump and peered at her over his sunglasses, for once looking her in the eye.  Gently, he took her hand.  “Do you want to have another baby?  With Clint?”  Between the glasses and the ball cap and the setting sun at his back, she could barely see his face, but his bright blue eyes were earnest and his smile, like before, was bittersweet.  Hopeful and mourning at the same time.

 

“Yes,” she nodded tearfully.  “Yes, I do.”

 

He smiled, a genuine smile, and for a moment his eyes were happy, beautiful in their own way.  “Then there will be a baby.  The two of you have already found each other.  You’ll make it work.”  He held her hand in both of his, almost like a blessing, then stood up to leave.  “Good luck.”  He was already walking to his car.

 

Laura looked down to wipe her eyes.  Somehow the money was in her hands, and it was far more than she had thought.  Pablo was waving to Lila and Cooper as he got into his car, the chrome gleaming in the waning sun.  She started toward him.

 

“I can’t take this, it’s too much and . . .” she trailed off.  Pablo thought there would be a baby.  It seemed rude to argue against such certainty.

 

“If you change your mind, then take the kids out for ice cream.  Or buy a tree for your garden.  Or fix your porch swing.”  He looked up out the windshield and through the corn toward the farmhouse.  “I lost my family.  I can’t have them back.  But I’m trying to build a new one, from broken pieces.”  He looked up at her through the sunglasses.  “Please take it.  Build your family.”

 

Laura nodded, not able refuse the plea.

 

He reached for the ignition when a _Kung Fu Fighting_ ringtone start to play.  He grimaced.  “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

 

“You shouldn’t talk on your cell phone in the car.”  Lila popped up in the passenger window.  “You could have an accident.” 

 

He nodded at her seriously.  “I’ll follow the rules.”  The phone rang again and he looked pointedly at Laura. 

 

“A porch swing will be nice.”

 

He smiled.  “Every family needs a porch swing.”  The phone rang a third time and his face turned apologetic as he answered the phone with a quiet “Pablo.”

 

“Yes, I got it.  It was secure . . . No, unfortunately it was sold.  We’ll have to find another.”

 

Laura herded her children back across the road and got them into the car.  The sun was fading fast.  Laura’s phone chimed to announce a text.  In the distance, the hot rod’s dash lights came on.

 

“No, I did not buy gas station donuts.  I ate an apple.”

 

Laura smiled down at the message from Clint: _Back home in 2 d <3._

 

“Only two cups, black.  I’ll be home soon.”

 

Laura shut the door, cutting off the inadvertent eavesdropping, but it sounded like Pablo’s new family was coming together too. 

 

“Are you going to take us for ice cream, Mom?”  Both Lila and Cooper gave her their best puppy dog eyes as she started driving for the house.  Still in the field, Pablo’s headlights came on. 

 

“Not tonight.”  She joined the children in their chorus of disappointed sighs.  It would have been a hell of a lot of ice cream.  “Maybe we can go this weekend when Clint gets back.”

 

Cooper cheered at the news of his stepfather’s return.  Lila watched out the back window, waving goodbye to their new friend. 

 

It would be three days before she would wonder how Pablo had known about the broken porch swing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gets home and reconnects with his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NONE of the lyrics are mine in case you aren't familiar with the music. See the notes at the end of the chapter for a list of the songs Laura is listening to. Click on the you tube links to listen to them (and see some hilarious hairdos).
> 
> In case you are wondering, the radio program/host is based on Delilah. http://www.delilah.com/main.html

_Ocean's apart day after day_

_And I slowly go insane_

_I hear your voice on the line_

_But it doesn't stop the pain_

_If I see you next to never_

_How can we say forever_

Clint stepped out of the master bathroom and made his way toward the enormous bed, eyes half-closed in the near dark.  He paused at the radio, peering at Laura in the shadows.

 

“I’m still awake, but you can turn it off if it will keep you up.”  She pulled back the covers in invitation.  Clint climbed in like an old man and curled up on his side, his body language practically begging for comfort for all that he remained silent.  Wordlessly, Laura spooned up behind him.    

 

“Bad mission?” she asked as she carefully slid a hand across his chest, wary of unseen injuries. 

 

He grabbed her hand in the dark.  “Mission went fine.”  He pulled her tight against him.  “Thanks.  You didn’t have to wait up.”

 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

 

_Wherever you go_

_Whatever you do_

_I will be right here waiting for you_

_Whatever it takes_

_Or how my heart breaks_

_I will be right here waiting for you_

 

He stroked her arm.  “Must have been a tough week.  I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

 

She brushed her lips against his temple.  “You were.  Thank you.  The flowers were beautiful.”

 

“Wasn’t me.”  He shrugged.  “I was just the messenger.”

 

“You were a very good messenger.”

 

He squeezed her hand in the dark.  “Were the kids okay?”  He tried to turn his head to face her, but he could only make out the silhouette of her hair against the glow of the radio display. 

 

_I've got sunshine on a cloudy day._

_When it's cold outside I've got the month of May._

 

“They were all right.  I don’t think they remembered the date, but they could see I was sad.  Coop realized why when the flowers arrived.  Lila is still trying to figure out how her dad sent flowers from Heaven.”

 

“Well, I _am_ pretty good friends with a god.  We could ask.”

 

_I've got so much honey the bees envy me._

_I've got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees._

 

Laura laughed.  “Must be all that circus training that lets you say that with a straight face.”

 

Clint stiffened, just barely, but Laura felt it in his silence.  “I learned that from someone else.”  He loosened again, consciously.  They had been through this before.  She had brushed against an old wound without meaning to.  Clint wasn’t angry, but he wasn’t ready to talk either.  Laura kissed his forehead in apology.  It seemed both their hearts were sore tonight.

 

_Well, I guess you'd say_

_What can make me feel this way?_

_My girl, my girl, my girl,_

_Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl._

 

“Did the Miller boys give you any trouble while I was gone?”

 

“No, not the Miller boys.”

 

He raised his head.  “But someone did.”  It was not a question.

 

“Edna Negley should have been named Gladys Kravitz.  It’s nothing to worry about.”

 

“What did she say?”

 

She rubbed his chest.  “Nothing, she just gave me a look.  She was being judgmental; she wasn’t a security threat.”  Clint and Nick had given her quite the crash course in detecting security threats. 

 

“I could shoot her.”  Clint laid his head back on the pillow as a commercial for the local bait and ammo shop came across the airwaves.  “It would only be a little arrow.”

 

“Don’t.  Ted would be upset.”  Laura’s smile crept into her voice.

 

“You haven’t lived here long enough.  Ted would be grateful.  Come on, just a little dendrotoxin and we’d all get a few hours of peace.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

 

A tired sounding radio announcer began reading the local news: the weather forecast, school board meetings in the surrounding townships, organic eggs and cheese from Sunflower Prairie Farms were now available at the local grocery, and the Chamber of Commerce was sponsoring an appearance by the Heroes of New York at the County Fair.

 

“So, you’re going to headline at the County Fair?”

 

“Oh, Hell no,” Clint mock-shuddered.  “Some guys with plastic arrows and a duct tape Ironman suit are going to do the County Fair.”  She waited for him to suggest they go together so he could show up his imposter.  He didn’t.

 

_Another summer day_

_Has come and gone away_

_In Paris and Rome_

_But I wanna go home_

 

“Clint?”  She knew it wasn’t a great time but she didn’t want him to have to put up a front for the kids. 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I saw the doctor this morning.  It didn’t take.”

 

Quietly, he rubbed her arm.  “I’m sorry.  Are you . . . does it hurt?”  He wasn’t sure what to ask.  Unlike Glenn, he had never done this before.

 

“I’m disappointed, not hurt.  I thought I would be, but . . . but I know we can try again next month.”

 

“I talked to my doctor too,” he whispered, as if afraid he would be overheard.  “They said they could try to reverse the vasectomy.  In case we need more sperm, . . . or if you wanted to . . . to try without the doctor.  Later.  If you want.”

 

“You think I won’t want to?”  She gave him a squeeze.

 

“Well, if everything went well, then,” he squirmed but held her arms around him.  He wasn’t trying to get away.  “I _really_ don’t want to have surgery on my balls for a third time after it works.”

 

Laura really couldn’t blame him for that one.  “You think it will work?”  Clint didn’t know anymore than Pablo, but she really needed to hear it tonight. 

 

“Yeah, I think it will work.  I’m a superhero, you know.”

 

“Yeah?  Did you superheroes remember to take out the trash?”

 

Clint snorted, “Hey, I just shoot the arrows.  Cap is the master planner.” 

 

They snuggled closer.  Laura wondered if Clint was in a kissing mood tonight.

 

_And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life_

_It’s like I just stepped outside_

_When everything was going right_

_And I know just why you could not_

_Come along with me_

_This was not your dream_

_But you always believed in me_.

 

A soft tapping came from the bedroom door.  Laura bit back a sigh.  _So much for kissing_.

 

“Come in.”  Clint pulled away enough to be welcoming, or as Cooper put it, ‘less gross.’ 

 

The head that peeked around the door was on a body too tall to be either Lila or Cooper.  “Hi,” Natasha sounded almost embarrassed.  “I heard the radio and hoped you were awake.  Can I just sit with you a while?  I can go if you want some alone time.”

 

Clint turned to check with Laura, but before he could ask she had kissed his cheek, then pushed at the covers, extending her earlier invitation to his best friend.  “Don’t worry.  This lug wasn’t going to get lucky tonight anyway.”

 

“Hey!”

 

Natasha crept into the room in bare feet and a prim, flowered nightgown.  She closed the door, then slid into the bed, sandwiching Clint between the two women he was most devoted to.  “Thank you.  I didn’t want to intrude, but . . .”

 

“But we’re all a little battered and bruised tonight.”  Laura pulled the thin blankets back over the three of them.  Clint flopped his head back down on the pillows.  Natasha sighed, rubbing her hand over Laura and Clint’s intertwined arms under the sheets.  Laura knew Natasha was a world class seductress, but tonight she had the same melancholy air that Clint did.  This wasn’t sexual.  This was two orphans comforting each other.  Siblings of choice.

 

_And I’m surrounded by_

_A million people I_

_Still feel alone_

_And let me go home_

_Oh, I miss you, you know_.

 

“Clint said the mission went fine.”  _Please tell me what’s wrong.  Please let me in_. 

 

Clint slumped lower in their shared embrace. 

 

Natasha sighed.  “You know this house used to belong to another SHIELD agent, yes?  That he willed the farm to Clint when he died?”

 

“Yes.”  Clint had shown her the paperwork once.  The whole farm was his, free and clear, but he had to give Natasha a place to stay too because there had only been one farm to give.  “It was the man who was Clint’s lover before he died.”

 

“We weren’t together anymore.”

 

“I know.”  Both Laura and Natasha hugged Clint a little harder.  “But you still love him and he clearly still loved you both.  Like I still love Glenn.  Our time is limited.  Our love is not.”

 

“Right,” Clint sighed.  “But it’s not the same as Glenn.”

 

“It hurts.”  Natasha couldn’t see Laura’s face over Clint’s shoulder, but she could see her nod in the dark.  “That’s similar enough.”  The world’s deadliest female assassin kissed Clint on the nose like a child.  “It’s his birthday.  He would have been fifty today.”

 

“Oh.”  Laura tried to cuddle closer.  “I’m so sorry.  Birthdays are hard.”

 

“We bought him a cupcake with a candle.”  Clint wasn’t sure where Laura ended and Natasha began, but it didn’t matter in this warm cocoon of comfort.  “Mocha icing on Devil’s food. With Hulk Sprinkles.”

 

“They were all out of Captain America cupcakes and Iron Man would have been wrong.”  Natasha squeezed Laura’s elbow in comfort, no doubt knowing about her own painful anniversary.  “Tony Stark used to drive him nuts.”

 

_Nice to meet you, where you been?_

_I could show you incredible things_

_Magic, madness, heaven, sin_

_Saw you there and I thought_

_Oh my God, look at that face_

_You look like my next mistake_

_Love's a game, wanna play?_

 

Natasha snorted, “Why are we listening to Taylor Swift?”

 

“Laura likes the Sappy Love Song Lady.”

 

_So it's gonna be forever_

_Or it's gonna go down in flames_

_You can tell me when it's over_

_If the high was worth the pain_

_Got a long list of ex-lovers_

_They'll tell you I'm insane_

_'Cause you know I love the players_

_And you love the game_.

 

“This is not a sappy love song,” Natasha bristled.  “This is way too close to half of my honeypot missions.”

 

“Well, you can make the marks think they’re crazy, but that’s usually just to get intel.  It’s not like you do it for fun.”

 

“I feel judged by this song.” 

 

“I could turn it off,” Laura offered.

 

Natasha shook her head.  “It will be over soon.”

 

_Screaming, crying, perfect storms_

_I can make all the tables turn_

_Rose garden filled with thorns_

_Keep you second guessing like_

_"Oh my God, who is she?"_

_I get drunk on jealousy_

_But you'll come back each time you leave_

_'Cause, darling, I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream_.

 

“Unless . . .”  Both women could hear the false puzzlement in Clint’s voice.  “You’re the befuddled lover and the singer is Bruce.”

 

Natasha smacked Clint under the sheets, “I am not having a fling with Dr. Banner.”

 

Clint turned to Laura for support, “No, think about it.  Split personality?  Anger management issues?  A whiff of danger?  It could totally work.”

 

Laura shrugged, “From the stories you’ve told, Dr. Banner would probably still have less drama than this song.”

 

_Boys only want love if it's torture_

_Don't say I didn't, say I didn't warn ya’_

 

“See, now I feel judged,” Clint groused.  “I want love.  I have love and it’s not torture.  And I like it that way.  Who needs drama?”

 

Laura smiled in the dark.  Clint didn’t often say the ‘L’ word out loud.

 

Natasha raised herself up on her elbow to glare down at Clint.  “Bobbi Morse.”

 

“Touché.”

 

“In fairness, you aren’t a boy anymore, or even a manchild.  And you were.”  Natasha laid down again with a yawn, a touch of her native accent creeping in.  “Which is why you were smart enough to snag Laura when you got the chance.”

 

“Thank you,” Natasha had expressed her approval before, but Laura always found it reassuring.

 

The radio show’s theme music came on.  Clint shushed Natasha.  “Laura likes to hear the listeners' stories.”  The three of them settled down, calm.

 

“Tonight, we have an old school, snail mail, sent by the U.S. Postal Service and delivered by an actual human, post card from a listener.  Not an email, not a Twitter, not a Facebook post.  This listener wrote to me on a beautiful post card from Yellowstone National Park and put an actual stamp on it.”

 

Clint tried to remember the last time he has used a stamp for anything that wasn’t for work or paying bills on the farm.  He had never really been a letter writing guy, mainly because he never stayed in one place long enough to get all that many letters either.

 

The hostess started to read the letter, “This card has a photograph of a field of wildflowers growing where just a few years before, a wildfire had passed through and killed everything down to the ground.  I chose this card for you and your listeners because it shows renewal and rebirth.  It shows that good things can grow out of the ashes, even when it seems like everything we counted on has been burned away.  Loss is a part of life, but if we risk letting good things back into our lives, they won’t feel so empty forever.  I am writing because I have lost some very dear family, and it makes late nights on the road very lonely.  The stories on your show make me feel less alone until I can get home where the new flowers are climbing up to face the sun.  My very long road trip is coming to an end, but the loves ones I can’t be with are still on my mind.  If you could play this song for them, I hope that wherever they are, they might remember how much I love them.  Thank you, Pablo.”

 

Laura started for a moment before she remembered this was a nationally syndicated program and that there were a hell of a lot of Pablos out there.  Not to mention the post card had to have been mailed out an unknown number of days ago.  But it was weird.

 

“Well, Pablo, your request is one of my favorites too, and I’m sure your family has such fond memories of you too tonight.  I also hope you’ll be home with your new flowers soon and when you get there, you hold on to them tight.”

 

“That was sweet,” Natasha whispered as the opening chords began to play.  “Sad, but sweet.”  The singer was a woman with a full, rich voice.

 

_There are places I remember_

_All my life, though some have changed._

_Some forever, not for better,_

_And some have gone, and some remain._

_All these places have their moments_

_With lovers and friends I still can recall._

_Some are dead and some are living,_

_In my life I loved them all._

 

It wasn’t until the second verse that Clint let out a gasp and started to shake, choking out sobs.

 

“Clint?”  Natasha reached for the light, “Are you hurt?”

 

Clint caught her hand, shaking his head while Laura reached for the radio.  “No!”  Clint sounded half-strangled by the sudden onslaught of emotion.  “Don’t turn it off.”

 

_But of all these friends and lovers,_

_There is no one compares with you._

_And these memories lose their meaning_

_When I think of love as something new_.

 

“Oh,” Natasha blew out a breath, trying to calm the adrenaline reaction.  “It’s the song, Laura.”  Clint nodded, unable to speak more.  “Phil loved this song.  They played it at his funeral.”

 

Clint choked out another sob in agreement.  Laura hugged him tighter and made no mention that Natasha had let the late man’s name slip.  She had thought it was another security risk but now she was starting to wonder if saying it just hurt them too much.

 

_Though I know I'll never ever lose affection_

_For people and things that went before,_

_I know I'll often stop and think of them._

_But in my life I loved you more_.

 

They lay together, listening, none of them dry-eyed by the end. 

 

 _I love you more_.

 

When it was over, Laura got up and brought them a box of tissues and a wet washcloth for Clint.  Natasha had the bedside lamp on and was wiping her eyes while Clint cleaned himself up and turned over his wet pillow. 

 

“I’m sorry, it just hit me hard.”

 

Laura squeezed his shoulder.  “Hey, it’s okay.  How many times have you been my rock late at night?  You don’t just get over it all at once.  Even the guy who wrote the letter was still grieving.”  Clint nodded but it didn’t look like he believed her.

 

“We should talk about a good thing,” Natasha looked as if the words were distasteful.

 

“A good thing?” 

 

Natasha grimaced, loathe to admit that a SHIELD-mandated therapist might have had a good idea once.  “We should share a good memory we still have so we don’t dwell on just being sad.”  She crossed her arms defensively. 

 

“I think it’s a nice idea,” Laura said quietly.  “I’ve told both of you stories about Glenn, and it’s hard but it helps to talk, it helps keep his memories alive.  And, well,” she shrugged.  “I’m living in what used to be this man’s house and I know almost nothing about him.”

 

“Okay,” Clint’s voice was still a little shaky.  Natasha laid a hand on his.

 

“Phil was the first real handler I was assigned to after I defected and joined SHIELD.  He was the first mission leader I ever had who didn’t at least _try_ to sleep with me, so I just assumed he was gay.”  She chuckled.  “I was _really_ offended when I realized he was dating an actual woman.”

 

“Audrey?”  Clint looked confused.

 

“No,” Natasha laughed.  “ _Looooooong_ before that.  Bess, that analyst who used to work at the top think tank in the Triskelion.”

 

“So, Phil was bisexual?” Laura asked.  “Or was Clint his only male lover?”

 

Clint snorted, “I’m just _that_ sexy.”

 

Natasha hit him with a pillow.  “After Bess he dated a dork from the Cyber Espionage Unit named Austin.  They went to a few comic conventions together.”

 

“Austin said they were just friends at the bar after the funeral.”  Clint frowned.  “And Phil was always discreet.  How do you know all this?”

 

“Intel.  I was trying to get dirt on Phil in case I ever needed to blackmail him.  And Austin never figured out he was dating Phil.  He was kind of oblivious for SHIELD.”

 

“I thought he was a closet case.”

 

“No,” Natasha shook her head.  “He was just really stupid.  He never even figured it out when Phil dumped him.  In any case, I never needed to blackmail Phil, which was good because he was too much of a Boy Scout.”  She saluted, “A geeky, comic book-loving Boy Scout.  That’s how I remember him tonight.”

 

“What about you, Clint?”  Laura gave his shoulders a squeeze in support.

Clint bit his lip until he was sure his emotions were under control.  “There were a lot of good things about Phil.  He . . . he was strong and brave and smart, and he didn’t take shit from anybody.  Even Nick knew not to screw with him because he and Nick went way back.  The first time I met him, I just thought he was some creepy guy in a suit.  You know, some smug bastard that read over other people’s reports and lies, then decided who people like me should take out, but who never got his hands dirty.  Just another person giving orders who would tell me to risk my life, who would never even leave HQ.  Melinda was with us for my first mission, this was back when she still did field work, and hadn’t been broken.  She could tell what I thought of Phil in a second, and was really having fun with me, making it seem like Phil was just a suit.

 

“The mission ended up being a disaster but it wasn’t anyone’s fault.  A freak storm blew in and my perch literally fell down.  My getting captured gave Melinda a great opportunity to get the hostage out, but I thought, ‘I’m just the newbie grunt.  No one is going to come back for me.’”  Clint had drawn up his knees and wrapped his arms around them.  “And then there was a knock on the door, and Phil was there, in his dark suit and a gas mask, talking some B.S. line in Spanish about how a biological weapon had been released in the area, and everyone needed to go to the hospital.  Of course, the people who had captured me thought it was _their_ weapon, and with the scientist hostage gone, half of them wanted to kill me and the other half wanted to find a doctor, stat.  The gullible part started coughing and made a run for the door, which convinced a good portion of the rest, leaving just two thugs, who might have been the smart ones or the stupid ones.  They were still debating whether they should just kill me or kill me _and_ Phil, when suddenly he knocked out one of them with his gas mask and then took out the other one before he could even draw his gun.  He was just so suave and cool about it, just picked up a gun and straightened his tie, his suit wasn’t even wrinkled.  And my heart skipped, you know, when you just feel . . . wow.  I thought at the time it was because he was such a badass, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, who looked so anonymous but was secretly dangerous.  But now that I’m older, I think the part that stunned me the most was that he did it to rescue me, as if I were worth saving.”  Clint looked cautiously at Laura.  “Sorry, that was kind of a violent story.”

 

“Violent, yes, but you are definitely worth saving.”

 

“That’s why people loved Phil,” Natasha laid her head against Clint’s shoulder.  “He thought we were all worth saving.  He was what SHIELD was supposed to be.”  She squeezed Clint’s arm.  “That’s why he put you on his team.  That’s why you brought me in instead of taking me out.”  She sighed, “SHIELD seemed to lose that after New York.  I don’t know how much of it was the fight, how much of it was HYDRA, and how much was just Phil being gone.”

 

“Do you think SHIELD was worth saving, even though we couldn’t do it?”

 

Natasha was quiet for a long time.  “SHIELD was not a large monolith.  It was a lot parts and a lot of people.  It’s all broken up now, but a lot of agents did make it out alive because we pulled the plug when we did.  So SHIELD might be gone, but I think there are still heroes out there, trying to save the world.”

 

“Is that what Phil would be doing if he were still alive?” Laura asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“No.”

 

The two assassins glared at each other.  Laura tried not to laugh because it reminded her of Lila and Cooper having an argument.

 

“No?” Natasha asked incredulously.  “You think he’d just retire out here?  Or go sling coffee in Portland while HYDRA took over the free world?”

 

“No.”  Clint pulled Laura onto his other shoulder, worried she felt left out, though she seemed fascinated by this side of his life that he never talked about.  “I think it would break him.  Like Melinda and Bahrain.  SHIELD was everything to Phil.  His career, his friends, his family, his life.  If he had gotten out with us, maybe, but think about it.  Jasper was HYDRA, they attacked Steve, the _killed_ Nick.  Phil would want to rebuild, sure, but Maria jumped ship, the Triskelion got leveled and the Air Force got the Hub.”  Clint looked bleak.  “And he would be all alone out there.”  Natasha was carefully studying a piece of lint on the floor.  Clint narrowed his eyes.  “What?”

 

Natasha glanced apologetically at Laura.  “Um, it’s like that puppet show, ‘one of these things is not like the other ones.’”

 

Laura wondered how Lila had roped Natasha into watching _Sesame Street_.  “One of these things isn’t true?”  Natasha tapped her nose.

 

“Huh.”  Clint went back over the list mentally.  “Jasper?  Steve?  Nick?”

 

“Ding, ding, ding.”  Natasha shrugged.  “Surprise.”

 

“Oh, um.”  Clint turned to Laura, open-mouthed.

 

“Oh, I know.  Security risk.”  Laura rolled her eyes.  “I didn’t hear anything.”

 

“Does anyone _else_ know?”  Clint looked offended.

 

“Steve and Sam were both there.  Maria, because she worked the last op.  I don’t know if she told Stark, but the last I heard, Nick was kicking ass from the shadows.  So I think if Phil were alive, he’d still be out there, still Nick’s one good eye.”

 

Clint nodded.  “Okay, yeah, he would.”  He turned to Laura.  “Rumor had it that Nick and Phil went so far back that Phil knew Nick’s real name.  Phil never actually denied it, but he never told me either.”

 

“He told me not to waste my money on Garrett’s betting pool.  He knew.”  All three of them laughed at that one.

 

Laura reached over to squeeze Natasha’s hand.  “One of my pastors did an exercise with me and the kids a year after Glenn died.  We tried to imagine what Heaven was like for him, so we could feel he would be comfortable and comforted until we got to join him.  I thought it was silly at the time, but the kids loved it, and it was just a nice picture to keep in mind.  Even if it wasn’t what ‘the church says,’ it seemed like a new way of caring about him and remembering who he was.”

 

The two spies were quiet for a while.  Natasha spoke first.  “I don’t know what Heaven would be for Phil, if he would be relaxing out here, or out in the field, saving people.  Maybe both.”

 

“Both,” Clint decided.  “SHIELD would be a nine to five job, and he’d get to relax with his parents, or, um, Audrey when he got home.”

 

“Audrey was the woman he was dating when he died,” Natasha explained.  “So in Phil Heaven, the Triskelion would be a short, pleasant drive from Portland, with just enough time to really get the car running.”

 

“And a classic car, not the SHIELD-issue Acura.”

 

“Right, something red and dangerous.”

 

“Like you.”

 

“Ha, older than me,” Natasha scoffed.  “And the car would play an endless stream of big band swing on the radio.  And the Beatles.”

 

“And it would never rain with the top down.  And he would come home to the farm every weekend, and we’d visit and make eggs and bacon and waffles.”

 

“And every Monday would bring a new adventure, with us or Nick or Melinda.”

 

“Or Jasper.”  Clint frowned.  “But he would be a good Jasper.”

 

“Yes,” Natasha glanced at Laura, who was smiling at them both.  “That’s what it would be like.  Like life, but with enough time for everything.  He’d have time to sit back and enjoy it, without having to rush off and save the world from itself.”

 

“That sounds like a very nice Heaven.”  Both Clint and Natasha looked calmer, if not actually happy.  Laura hoped they would have better dreams than they would have had otherwise.  “When it’s my time, can I come too?”

 

“Of course.”  Clint kissed her cheek.  “The farmhouse will never run out of bedrooms in Heaven.”

 

“Will the bed be bigger too?” Natasha yawned.  “Because it gets crowded enough in here with us _and_ the kids.  And Phil was a pillow thief.”

 

Clint stretched, settling back into the bed.  “Maybe we should just all camp out in the cornfield instead.  This Heaven bed is getting crowded.”

 

Natasha sat up.  “Thank you.  I’ll let you two sleep.”  For a moment she looked so small and alone before she put on a brave face.

 

“You don’t have to leave, Natasha.”  Laura turned off the radio, then shared a look with Clint that Natasha couldn’t read.

 

Clint punched his pillow.  “You don’t have to leave and you don’t have to stay.  But you don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be.”

 

Natasha’s face was carefully blank, but her eyes were far away, “Thank you.”  She lay down again, facing away from them, eyes on the door.  “Does Laura steal pillows?”

 

Clint laughed.  “No, but she has deadly elbows.  You should give her some krav lessons.”

 

Laura grinned as she turned off the light.  “I only did that once.  And I was asleep.”

 

Clint rubbed his chest at the memory.  “Sure, once.  I’m sure Glenn is up with Phil at the Heaven farm, telling him all about how you only did it once.”

 

Laughing, Laura ruffled his hair as she turned on a nightlight, then turned off the lamp.  “Are all the renovations finished on the Heaven farm, or is it just like here?”

 

Both Clint and Natasha snorted in the dark.  “It’s not a remodel, Clint,” Natasha said in a deeper, more nasal voice.  “It’s a historical renovation.”

 

“Granite countertops are impractical and modern,” Clint replied in the same tone, and Laura realized they were imitating their dead friend. 

 

“Of course we need a flag pole, what if Captain America comes to visit?”  Giggles were creeping into Natasha’s voice.  “It’s only been sixty-eight years, they’ll have to find him eventually.”

 

Clint wiped his eyes in the dark, but his voice was less bitter than sweet.  “He was right though.  He was right.”

 

“Phil liked to fix things.  People too.  So we’d still be renovating the farm in Heaven after brunch.”  Natasha shifted in the bed, getting comfortable.  “We’d be restoring the formal dining room and upping the curb appeal on a house that can’t be seen from the road.”

 

“Phil always had plans but he rarely had time.  This was going to be his retirement project, for when he couldn’t work anymore.  That’s why only the essentials got done before he died.”

 

“And he bribed Clint with bacon and waffles to get him on board.”

 

Clint snickered.  “So that’s why the Heaven farm must have infinite bedrooms, so there will always be something to renovate, but there will always be somewhere to sleep, no matter how many friends stay over.”

 

“Mmmm.”  Laura tucked her head into Clint’s neck, breathing in his scent.  He would never smell just like Glenn, but he was starting to smell like safety.  Comfort.  “What did he look like?”

 

“Hmm?”  Clint was relaxed now, at peace.

 

“What did Phil look like?”  She had never seen a photo of him, but wasn’t sure if it was because of grief or another security risk.

 

“Phil?”  Clint didn’t flinch this time.  “Phil was . . . beautiful.  Fit, trim, neat.  Well-groomed.  The guy next door.  He could blend into a crowd like a chameleon.  But if you could get him to smile, it was like the sun coming out on a rainy day.”

 

“So he was a real life James Bond, then?” Laura sounded a bit uncertain, but Clint’s only response was a muffled snore.

 

“No,” Natasha whispered, not wanting to wake up Clint.  “But he had kind eyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs on Laura's radio:
> 
> 1\. Right Here Waiting, Richard Marx https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_E2EHVxNAE  
> 2\. My Girl, The Temptations https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6IUG-9jZD-g  
> 3\. Home, Michael Buble https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lbSOLBMUvIE  
> 4\. Blank Space, Taylor Swift https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-ORhEE9VVg  
> 5\. In my life, Bette Midler https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6052dI9jRk
> 
> Phil would probably have played the original version of 'In My Life' by the Beatles. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lN4BqEvb18M


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bartons (and an extra Romanov) have breakfast. Questions are answered, but for some people, new ones crop up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great big giant THANK YOU to ceria, my beta, who returned this with a lightning fast edit. (Seriously, I finished typing this up this morning). If there are mistakes, blame me, I made a few last minute changes.
> 
> Amazingly, I finished a 13K word fic in less than a month. For me, that is epic! (Sadly, this was supposed to be short. The Verbosity Monster strikes again).

Clint half-stumbled down the stairs to the smell of pancakes and sausage.  He peeked in the kitchen door to see Laura working the griddle while Natasha set the table, her hair in rollers as she tried out a new style.  Cooper and Lila came in the back door carrying this morning’s eggs.  He waited until the baskets were safely on the counter before he came in, yawning dramatically.

 

“Clint!  You’re back!”  Lila ran up to him and hugged him around the leg. 

 

Cooper grinned, but kept his distance.  “Are you going to teach us to shoot?  You promised.” 

 

“Hrrrrmm,” Clint growled and shuffled toward the coffee pot, eyes half-closed as he dragged Lila along with him.  “Clint-Bear no talk to kids.  Clint-Bear need coffee.”  Tasha handed him a full mug before he drank directly from the pot, while Laura smiled and flipped pancakes.

 

“Did you get to fly the plane?”  Lila poked at his knee.  “Did you get to go up into the clouds like a bird?” 

 

Still wearing his sleepy face, Clint put down his mug, then struck like a cobra, snatching up the little girl and spinning her around.  “Yep!  Up into the clouds and we went round in circles and counted the stars and waved hello to the Man in the Moon.”  Lila shrieked and giggled.

 

“There is no Man in the Moon,” Cooper grinned.

 

“There is so, the fortune teller said.”  Clint set Lila back on the floor, “and she had a beard, so she definitely knew what she was talking about.” 

 

Cooper gave him a dubious look, still not convinced Clint had ever been in the circus, “I don’t believe in fortune tellers.” 

 

“Silly boy,” Natasha scolded as she reached over Copper to set out the butter and syrup.  “Didn’t you know I can see the future?”  When the kids shook their heads, she laid her hand over her brow and affected a deep Russian accent, “I see water, is flowing into a deep blue basin.”

 

Laura carried the sausage links to the table, still sizzling.  “Kids, go wash up for breakfast.”  The kids hurried off, Cooper protesting that that wasn’t a _real_ fortune as soon as he turned on the faucet.  Clint caught Natasha and Laura’s eyes and laughed.

 

The two spies spent breakfast recounting their various adventures: flying their salvaged Quinjet, having sleepovers at Avengers’ Tower, posting Thor’s portions at the _Sizzler_ to Instagram.  (For all the he was a prince and accustomed to being served, Thor adored buffet-style dining).  Laura talked about the local news, _not gossip_ : Ed and Mable had lost a prize sheep, Lois and Jan had decided to raise alpacas, and Doc Bernie, the large animal vet, had taken on a partner so he could retire the year after next.  Cooper wanted to know if Clint and Natasha could ask Tony Stark to help him with his science fair project, _heck no_ , and Lila reported that Mary Jane and Mary Sue, the twins three farms over, had had a princess birthday party and everyone got to wear tutus and got glitter polish for their nails, but it was all gone now.  Lila’s had been blue.

 

As soon as the dishes were cleared, Cooper asked about the archery lessons again.  Clint stipulated that chores must be done first and Laura allowed only _Nerf_ arrows, but Cooper seemed thrilled, eagerly hurrying off to do his weeding.  Laura and Natasha were already well into cleaning up the kitchen by the time Clint finished his toast, so with a kiss for both ‘his best girl’ and ‘the one who can kill me,’ though he wasn’t always sure which was which, he stepped out onto the porch to get Lila’s help feeding the animals.   

 

Lila was out on the porch steps, looking over the toy cars Cooper had outgrown.  She liked to build little villages out of twigs, dirt, leaves and whatever was around.  Consequently, Clint often found _Hot Wheels_ and _Polly Pockets_ in all sorts of weird places. 

 

“Clint-Dad?”  This was Lila’s latest name for her step-father.  Clint was just glad Cooper had stopped calling him ‘Clinton.’  “Do cars fly?”  She was holding out a bright blue convertible with tail fins.

 

“Do cars fly?” Clint looked down into her face, realizing that for a little girl it was a serious question.  “Well, _Hot Wheel_ cars don’t fly, and your mom’s car and my truck don’t fly, but people have tried to build flying cars.  Howard Stark built one for the World Expo a long time ago, but it only got a few feet off the ground.  So most cars don’t fly, but maybe a few do.”  He raised his eyebrows, hoping his answer wouldn’t trigger a whole new series of questions he couldn’t answer.

 

“Who’s Howard Stark?” 

 

“Iron Man’s dad.”  When no more questions came, he handed back the car and picked up the feed bucket, “Wanna go see the goats?”

 

Lila nodded eagerly, then skipped down the steps, making the little blue car fly.  “Come on Pablo!  Let’s go feed Bobbi and Jess!”

 

Clint followed, shaking his head, “Who’s Pablo?”

 

“The man with the flying car.”

 

“Sure,” Clint really couldn’t argue with that logic. 

 

With the kitchen clean, Laura and Natasha took a seat out on the porch steps. 

 

“Can I ask you a question?  About Clint?”

 

Natasha looked uncertain, “You can ask.  I might not answer.”

 

Laura took a deep breath.  “Does Clint like women too, or is he really gay?”

 

Natasha raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t that something you two should have worked out before the courthouse wedding?”

 

Laura blushed, studying her coffee.  “We did, but . . .”

 

Natasha shook her head, muttering in Russian.  “But you don’t believe him, so you’re asking me?”  When Laura nodded, Natasha looked out into the meadow, exasperated.  “Just like Clint and Coulson,” she muttered under her breath.  “Sometimes it’s amazing he gets laid at all.”  She turned back to Laura.  “Yes, Clint likes women.  He has slept with _many_ women.  Yes, he likes men, but he also likes woman.  He especially likes you.”

 

Laura looked down at her mug, as if it held tea leaves that would reveal the secrets of the universe.  The coffee grounds were no help.  “But we haven’t, um,”

 

“Fucked.”

 

Laura could not bring herself to look at Natasha, “Right.  I mean, we had to do the artificial insemination with the doctor because of the vasectomy, but we haven’t actually . . .”

 

“Oh, I _know_ ,” Natasha pulled out a chunk of pine and a knife and began whittling.  It was a hobby she had taken up years ago on visits to the farm that allowed her to play with knives without looking threatening.  “We have talked about it, _at length_.”  She stopped and stared at Laura until the other woman looked her in the eye, “He’s waiting for you to make a move.  He doesn’t want to pressure you into it.”

 

“Oh,” Laura looked doubtful.  “I think it was great that the two of you could talk about Phil last night, but . . . I really don’t think I can measure up to that.  And if Clint would really rather be with a man, like Phil or Robert, then I don’t know if I can satisfy him.”

 

Natasha looked mystified, “Robert?”

 

“The dramatic one you were talking about last night, who was so exciting,” Laura chewed at her lip nervously.  “Or Super Spy Badass Phil.”  She sighed, “I’ve got two kids, stretch marks, wrinkles.  Clint has been great with the kids, but I just . . . if he wanted me, wouldn’t he have already, um, initiated something?”

 

Natasha stared at Laura for a full three seconds before she laughed, long and hard and loud enough that Clint shot her a look all the way from the barn.  She grabbed hold of Laura’s arm before the woman could leave, and wiped her eyes with the hem of her apron.

 

“I’m sorry, but _wow_ , major misunderstanding here.”  Natasha fought off a last giggle, “First of all, Clint wants you.  He wants you _bad_.  He spent three hours in the Quinjet telling me how much he wants you, but he doesn’t want to push if you’re not ready.  He is ready, willing and able.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Secondly, when I say I’ll leave the two of you alone, you don’t have to invite me to stay if you want to jump Clint.  I don’t do threesomes.”

 

“Oh,” Laura blushed harder.  “I didn’t mean it like that.  I just didn’t want you to have to be alone when you were sad.”

 

“I know, I’m grateful,” Natasha smiled.  “But I’m a big girl, and you and Clint need to work this out.”

 

Laura nodded, “Right.”

 

“Thirdly, there is no _Robert_ that Clint had a hot, tumultuous affair with,” Natasha snickered.  “ _Bobbi_ is short for _Barbara_.”

 

 _Oh._ "Really?"

 

“Very brief, very hot, very loud breakup.  _Very_ female _._   Clint enjoys the V.  I can tell you _that_ one personally.  But that was a _long_ time ago, and we made better friends than lovers,” Natasha started to chortle again.

 

Laura rolled her eyes, “And fourthly?”

 

 **“** Trust me, Coulson was in no way, shape or form James Bond,” she stood, urging Laura to follow.  “Come on, this can only be proven visually.”

 

Mystified, Laura trailed behind her as she went into the house and up the stairs to the smallest bedroom that Clint always kept locked.

 

Natasha pulled a hairpin out of one of her rollers and picked the lock within seconds, “Don’t worry, Bluebeard won’t kill us for coming in here.  This was Phil’s office, so this is where Clint put him away after the funeral.  I’m allowed in here, he just doesn’t want the kids messing it up.”  Natasha flicked on the light to reveal a homey looking workroom with just a few too many storage boxes inside to be useful.  A thin layer of dust covered everything, less so on the large accordion folder on the desk that contained the real estate documents for the farm.  An old, black and white wedding portrait hung on the wall in an antique frame, the clothes and hair styles straight from the 1950’s.  The bride’s smile was radiant.  Natasha stopped next to Laura and they both looked at it solemnly.  “Phil’s parents,” Natasha confirmed.  “All of his close relatives are gone, so there was no one to send it to.”

 

“It’s a nice photo,” Laura carefully wiped the dust from the glass with a tissue.  The groom’s eyes looked happy, and somehow familiar.  “It seems a shame to keep it up here.”

 

“Phil’s dad died when he was still a boy.  His mom, hmm, seven, eight years ago?  They’re both buried in Wisconsin,” Natasha stepped past the desk and took down a cardboard box from the top of the filing cabinet.  Laura was looking over Phil’s bookcase, filled to the brim with music cds, dvds and books piled in two deep.  Phil had definitely been a comic book fan.  A large steel case was stored on the bottom shelf.  Laura frowned at it curiously.

 

“That’s the sat phone.  I take it Clint hasn’t shown you how to use it?” 

 

Laura shook her head. 

 

“ _Bohze moi_.  I’ll show you later when the kids are in bed.  If you’re ever in real trouble, that’s how you call to get help,” Natasha continued to root through the box.  “Aha!”  She pulled out a photograph in a cheap plastic frame that matched the ones of herself and Clint displayed on the refrigerator.  She passed it to Laura.  “This is Phil.”

 

Laura accepted the photo with trepidation, then stepped over to the lamp for a better look.  It was not what she had expected.  “The man in the photo was _old_.  Not elderly, but she had always imagined Phil as young as Clint, despite being told his chronological age.  He was fit and trim, but compared to her husband, he was practically scrawny.  And _balding_ , noticeably, undeniably, inexorably losing his hair.  Pierce Brosnan he was not.

 

Phil wasn’t dressed for a boardroom, a cocktail party, or a Hollywood spy movie, rather he was dressed for farm work.  His jeans were torn at one knee, his thermal shirt stained and covered with hay, and he was crouched down in what was probably the yard near the barn, trying to hold off a very affectionate goat kid who looked a lot like Bobbi.  The goat was butting at his chin and had knocked his very thick-framed glasses askew.  His face was screwed up with trying to keep goat hair and horns out of his mouth, highlighting every crease and wrinkle.  His eyes were tightly closed, but he did have a bright smile, like his mother.  He was no perfect ten, James Bond type, but he seemed approachable, even kind.

 

 Natasha came up next to her, looking at the photo with a fond expression, “Badass Coulson may have gotten Clint excited, but this is the Phil he fell in love with.  It’s not how thin or tall or well-groomed you are, or how many people you can take in a fight.  If Clint wanted that, he’d still be chasing me, Bobbi, Jess, or Edward.”

 

Laura snorted as she realized where the animals’ names had come from.

 

“Clint loved him because Phil made him family, made him part of his life, gave him a home even after they had broken up.  Phil was really the one lover who taught Clint the difference between sex and love.  That’s why I think it still hurts him so much, even though they had been broken up for years.”  Natasha reached out to touch the face in the photo, “and that’s why you have to make a move, why Clint won’t.  He never told me exactly why it didn’t work out, but Clint seemed to think he wasn’t ready or mature enough for a permanent relationship, that they just didn’t get the timing right.”  Natasha sighed, “Phil’s status was up in the air before the Chitauri invasion.  He and Audrey were still dating, but she had moved across the country and Phil was working hard, shoring up our defenses.  He didn’t know if they would keep up a long distance relationship, or if it would just fizzle out.”

 

Natasha was quiet for a long moment, “Clint doesn’t like to talk about his time when he wasn’t himself.”

 

“His time with Loki?”

 

“Yes,” she crossed her arms, uncomfortable.  “Loki picked through Clint’s thoughts, memories and knowledge.  He got Clint to reveal not just SHIELD’s secrets, but his own.  He made Clint analyze attack plans and strategy, but when he wasn’t doing that his brain kept working on the other issues in his life, not able to turn off.  He worked through what had gone wrong in his past relationships, and what he really wanted from life.  He wanted a home and someone to come home to.”  She nodded at the photo, “He wanted Phil back, and when he woke up, he promised himself that after we took out Loki, he was going to man up and ask Phil if they could try again.”  Natasha took a deep breath, willing her voice not to break.  “Phil was already dead.  I couldn’t tell him until later, or he would have been distracted during the battle.  They never got to have their second chance.”  She put her arm around Laura, “He was not going to lose out on love again.  He loves you, but he’s always going to love Phil, just like you’re always going to love Glenn.  Which you already know.” 

 

Laura nodded, eyes serious.  “Thank you for telling me about him,” she looked down at the photo.  “I just thought he was this perfect man I could never live up to.”

 

“I understand, but honestly, you talk about Glenn the same way.”

 

“I do?”

 

Natasha rolled her eyes, “You do.  Glenn was a fearless soldier, a financial genius and a world class comedian with a hot body and gorgeous hair.  He was a devoted father and treated you like a queen.”

 

“Oh,” Laura blushed.  “I guess I did say all that.”

 

“And you aren’t wrong.  He was your husband, and he probably was all that, when he was home and not deployed.”

 

Laura winced.  Natasha wasn’t wrong.

 

“But he was human too, just like Phil.  He must have had his bad days, and his bad moods and his bad ideas.  He was in the Army, so he must have had times when he wasn’t around, when he wasn’t there to be a good husband or father.”  Natasha raised an eyebrow, “I’ve seen the photos, Laura.  That man had no fashion sense and a unibrow.  He was human too.  But you loved him anyway.”  When Laura nodded, sniffling, Natasha took the photo and put it away in the box.  “Come on, enough memories for today.”  They turned out the light and locked up the little room.  Laura glanced back as they headed downstairs, the smiling couple in the wedding photo still on her mind.  They had seemed so happy, but they had had their share of heartbreak too.

 

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow.  Why don’t I take the kids out for lunch and a movie, get them out of your hair for a few hours?”

 

Laura gave Natasha an odd look.  She seemed to like the children well enough, but she had never offered to babysit before.

 

Natasha nudged her with her shoulder, “This is the part where you say ‘yes, thank you Natasha for taking my children out on a Sunday afternoon so I can have sex with my husband in peace.’”

 

“Yes,” Laura stammered.  “Thank you.  I’d like that.”

 

Natasha smirked, “Yes, you will.”  She took out her whittling again. 

 

Laura went into the pantry and brought out the flour and sugar to feed the bread starter, “Natasha?”

 

“Hmm?” Natasha didn’t look up from her work, but if Laura had to guess, it was another piece of furniture for Lila’s dollhouse.

 

“I usually bake a cake on Glenn’s birthday.  Not with flowers or candles, but just a nice dessert to mark the day.  Or sometimes I just make a totally zany cake if there’s one I want to try.  Do you think we should make a cake for Phil’s birthday?”

 

Natasha looked vaguely alarmed, “We?”

 

“I mean _me_.”  She knew the Black Widow was not a baker, but she did appreciate Laura’s cakes.  “ _We_ could all eat it.”

 

“I think that would be nice.”

 

“And a good excuse to practice.”  Laura had started to sell special occasion cakes and desserts out of the farm’s kitchen after the _Walmart_ moved in and the local baker retired.  “Which one should I make?”

 

Natasha put down her project, Laura thought it was some sort of chair or bench, and pulled out the binder of available cakes and future ideas with glee.  “No, no, no.”  She laughed at a bright green cake with a plastic Godzilla on top.  “Too close to reality.  No.  For Clint’s birthday, totally,” she tapped at the photo of the sparkly purple cake Laura had done for the glitter princess party.  “But make the fairy wands arrows.  Or sparklers.”

 

She kept looking, humming as she thought them over.

 

“Unfortunately, I don’t have a classic car cake pan.”

 

“That’s okay— ooh!  This one!” Natasha flipped the binder around.

 

“The doughnut pan?  Really?”

 

“Yes.  Totally Phil.  Make whatever kind you want.  Powdered sugar, glazed, jelly, cream-filled.  He ate them all, even those crappy _Little Debbie_ ones.  Doughnuts were practically a food group when he was on a mission stuck in the surveillance van.”  She grinned, “Phil would have loved it.”  Natasha picked up her whittling again.  It was definitely a chair of some kind. 

 

“No legs?” Laura asked. 

 

“Not on a porch swing,” Natasha frowned in concentration as she carved a fine detail.  “I just hope Lila doesn’t break it so it matches the house.”

 

Lila was unpredictable.  With a shrug, Laura went down to the basement to get more butter and the appropriate pan.  As she closed the freezer, the penny dropped.

 

Ears ringing, Laura leaned against the chest freezer, hand grasping at the money still in her jacket pocket, trying to picture what Pablo had looked like.  Had he looked like any of the people in the photos?  She couldn’t remember.  It was as if once she knew he wasn’t a threat, she hadn’t tried to commit him to memory because she knew she would never see him again.  _He was just passing through_.  Her mind raced in the silence, the only sound the scrape of knife into wood upstairs.

 

Laura knew she would never be able to pull off nonchalant in front of Natasha, so she went straight for suspicious.  “How do you know Phil is dead?”  Laura must have looked pale because Natasha’s face went from blank to concerned in an instant.

 

“I saw the body,” she glanced down at the thawing butter.  “Why?  Did Clint stash a corpse in the freezer?”

 

“No!” Laura gasped.  “Do I need to worry about that?”

 

“No,” Natasha looked relieved.  “Well, probably not unless it was an emergency.”  This was not reassuring.  “Why do you ask?”

 

Laura didn’t want to raise hopes.  It could all just be a coincidence.  _Or a trap_.

 

“You said you saw Nick’s body too.”

 

Natasha conceded the point, “Nick’s body wasn’t frozen.”  She rubbed her arm, as if chilled by the memory.  “Phil died on the Helicarrier, just before the Battle of New York.  The ship was crippled and with so many casualties and damage on the main land, the medical team had to put the dead into deep freeze for long term storage until SHIELD would be able to transport them to the shore.  Clint and I went to see Phil while he was still in the morgue.  Most of the bodies were two or three deep, but Phil was by himself, either because of his rank or because he was killed by an alien weapon.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s not an unreasonable question, but yes, we’re sure Phil is dead.  He had been stabbed through the chest and he bled out.  If he had been on the ground instead of in a falling airship or if we could have gotten to him sooner, they might have been able to save him, but,” she shrugged.  “You can only do so much during the fight.  He wasn’t alone though.  Nick was with him when he died.”

 

Glenn had made it all the way to the field hospital, but had died on the table.  Laura wasn’t sure which was better, but she hoped that both men had been too far gone to be in pain at the end.

 

“And I really can’t think of a reason why Nick wouldn’t tell us if Phil were alive.  Stark and Cap, maybe, but they settled his estate, closed his accounts, gave Clint the farm.  Phil didn’t tell us his estate plans, so if he were alive, Nick probably would have just told us to get our stuff because the house was being sold.  Faking a funeral is one thing, but a fake, frozen body within twenty-four hours would be a bit much, even for Nick.”

 

“What would be a bit much for Nick?” Clint asked as he came in from his chores, still skaking his hands dry from washing up at the pump outside. 

 

“Faking Coulson’s death,” Natasha looked apologetic.  “Since Nick faked his, Laura wanted to know how sure we were about Phil.”  She held up her nearly finished porch swing to Clint.  “Think you can make some seat cushions?” 

 

Clint’s time in the circus had made him a surprisingly good tailor.  “Sure.  We have some leftovers from the fabric Laura picked out for the placemats.”  He turned to his wife, “I guess Phil was important enough that Nick might have faked his death, but he’s not cold just to be a jerk.  He would have to have a hell of a good reason to hide it from us.”

 

“Exactly,” Natasha was pulling out sandpaper to smooth down her tiny porch swing.  “Maybe if Phil was in a permanent coma.”

 

“Or if he had lived, but was too disabled to defend himself,” Clint shook his head.  “Phil would have hated that.  I miss him, but I’m glad he’s not lonely or in pain.”  He noticed the butter on the counter.  “Ooh, something cooking?” he asked, looking hopeful.

 

Laura tried to smile, but it was shaky and uncertain.  “Belated birthday cake?”  She held out the pan, “Natasha thought the giant doughnut would be good.”

 

Clint took the pan out of her hands and put it on the counter, then turned back to Laura and cupped her chin.  “Thanks, Babe.  That’s perfect,” he leaned in to kiss her cheek.  She turned her head to briefly catch his lips with her own.  Clint looked surprised, but delighted.

 

“Ewww,” Cooper was standing in the doorway, _Nerf_ arrows loaded into a used coffee can quiver.  Natasha snorted. 

 

Laura rested a hand on Clint’s chest, “Go slaughter some targets, Robin Hood.  There will be sweet treats to enjoy later.”  She gave him a push toward her son.  Clint gave her a speculative look as he went.

 

“There will be cake too,” Natasha called after him.  Clint stumbled on the last step. 

 

“I have condoms in my room if you want them,” Natasha looked up at Laura as she put down the now smooth window seat.  “They’ll fit Clint if he doesn’t have any of his own.”

 

Laura wondered how this had become her life.

 

“Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were supposed to be three chapters, but the last little bit didn't fit here, so now you get a short epilogue. Thank you for reading and your continued support.
> 
> For those not in the USA: 
> 
> _Sizzler_ is a sit down restaurant chain, characterized by an elaborate buffet where you serve yourself.
> 
>  _Nerf_ is a toy company that makes 'soft' sports equipment, usually out of foam. I don't know if they actually make arrows, but I imagine Laura would use the name to describe 'practice' arrows without points on them.
> 
>  _Hot Wheels_ are small, collectible toy cars marketed to small boys that would fit in the palm of your hand. They are relatively inexpensive but probably shouldn't be left everywhere because they roll and if you step on one the wrong way, you are going down. (Very similar to _Micro Machines_ as depicted in the film _Home Alone_.
> 
>  _Polly Pockets_ are a line of very small dolls marketed to little girls. They were initially small enough that the little playsets that came with them could 'fit in a pocket' and be carried around. Surely these toys were put away when Lila's little brother was born due to the choking hazard. I'm sure the goats ate a few of them too and they ended up in even weirder places.
> 
> I'm going to assume that if you have an internet connection, you already know what _Walmart_ is because those damn things are everywhere.


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura goes looking for answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the short epilogue.

The sun was just starting to set when Laura reached the tree stump where she had talked with Pablo.  Glenn’s old hunting rifle in her hand made her feel secure, not that she really expected anyone to still be out here. 

 

The ground had been slick mud then, but it had dried in the ensuing days, leaving a record of what had transpired.  She could see her own footprints going from the road to the rock and back again, straight and direct, as well as Lila and Cooper’s tracks, meandering all over the clearing like the farm’s chickens.  Small, deep prints showed where Lila had crouched down near Pablo’s drawing, a seemingly random pattern of circles and lines, incomplete, interrupted by her arrival.  If it meant anything beyond passing the time, Laura couldn’t tell.  She picked up a _Polly Pocket_ that Lila had left in one of the larger circles and moved on. 

 

Pablo’s boots had left only two sets of tracks, from car to stump and back again, her own steps following when she tried to give the money back.  The tire tracks distinctly showed where Pablo had pulled off the road and parked so he could enjoy his lunch, but strangely, they just stopped there, going no further.  Cooper’s footprints clearly marked the ground all around where the car had been parked, but the tracks didn’t continue forward.  Laura traced them backward, trying to find where Pablo must have turned the car, but she couldn’t figure it out.  Either he was a trick stunt driver who had backed out in his own tracks perfectly, or the car had just . . . vanished.  But cars didn’t just vanish, any more than people did.  She had foolishly driven off while he was still on the phone.  She hadn’t actually seen him leave.

 

Laura sighed and looked down at the ground, turning the problem over in her mind.  Cooper’s sneaker had stepped down directly across a tire track, clean and unbroken.  The car had not passed this way a second time.  Pablo hadn’t backed up to drive away.  Somehow, he was just gone.

 

The hairs stood up on the back of her neck. 

 

She wondered if Pablo had been Phil’s real name, the name only Nick knew.

 

She wondered if Glenn would come to visit, or if he would only come to Clint.

 

She wondered if she was going crazy.

 

Laura knew she would never be sure whether Pablo was the man in the photo.  She would never be certain he had been there at all, but she wanted it to have been him.  She wanted to believe that even if he couldn’t still be alive, that they had his approval.  That he had given his blessing.  That his self, his soul, still existed out there.  That somehow, Glenn was out there too.

 

Laura ran her fingers over the money in her pocket, warm in the fading sun.  Her mother had told her Glenn would have wanted them to be happy.  She didn’t think he was the only one.

 

She looked to the east as the first stars came out.  In the distance, the dinner bell rang, calling them all home to her cake and Natasha’s stew.

 

“Thank you, Phil.  I think, if you’re right, we’ll buy a crib for the new baby.”  The stars twinkled back like Pablo’s eyes.  “I’ll take care of them for you.  I’ll hold on tight until we’re all together again.”

 

She headed back to the house.  In the distance, Clint was carrying Lila on his shoulders while Cooper brought in fresh salad greens from the garden.  Through the windows, she could see Natasha bringing a tureen of stew to the table, her hair a gleaming crown of scarlet ringlets. 

 

Laura walked faster.  She was almost home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for your support. Thank you again to my loyal beta, ceria. 
> 
> This story is complete. I don't know if I will continue this universe or not. I have an idea or two, but there are too many irons in the fire already and ceria will possibly kill me if I don't actually finish those. (Including the one for her).


End file.
